The Agrista (Between the Lines Book 1)

by Shannon Lamb

  As brilliant as Cerin was, he lacked any semblance of an internal clock. While he hadn’t claimed to know exactly how long the Amethysia would affect the prison guards, its lasting nature far exceeded his expectations. This fact became troublingly evident the second they’d stepped foot in the prison as Marie and her siblings set out on Umbrack with Raeph in tow.

  “Oh! The Amethysia was a good idea, after all,” said Cerin, clearly pleased with himself.

  “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Marie mocked, imitating Cerin with clear distaste and pulling a muffled laugh from Fallon.

  “I’m always open to suggestions, had any of you offered any.”

  “That’s a laugh! We didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late,” Laylia remarked dryly.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” Cerin snarled.

  “Oi! Brats!” The four of them instantly stiffened from the sound of Raeph’s booming voice. “Focus.” He jerked his head toward the stirring cells. The prisoners migrated toward the shadows, looking utterly aghast. “Show yourselves. You’re scaring them,” Raeph said with an angry sidelong glance.

  One by one, they dismounted their Umbra and became visible. Their sudden appearance only seemed to aggravate matters, sending the unsuspecting captives into a raucous uproar.

  “Hush! Calm yourselves, friends!” Raeph hissed. “Do you want to be freed, or not?” That seemed to shut them up, but a good deal of them were rebels, and were not likely to trust anyone sporting the telltale Infragilis armor of Milités. The air of distrust seemed to overtake the majority of them, weaving through the crowd with wary glances and grunts of displeasure.

  Suddenly possessed by a rare bout of confidence, Marie stepped up at the sight of Raeph’s struggle. They had no time for rousing speeches, and she lacked the mental acuity and foresight to give one at the moment. She decided to get straight to the point, lackluster as her revelations may be.

  “We’ve brought weapons to be distributed among the prisoners,” she felt her courage diminish with every expectant glance cast in her direction.

  “Surely, you’ve heard word of change. The slaves have not kept you in the dark?” asked Laylia, rushing to her sister’s aid.

  “Aye,” one prisoner admitted reluctantly. “If not, we’d o’ been tipped off by the hordes of snorin’ guards,” he said with a shrug, accompanied by a reluctant smile.

  “I know it’s sudden,” Marie followed up nervously. “Change often is,” she said, thinking back to her first sight of Alex in all of his majestic glory. She never could’ve imagined that her decision in that moment would’ve led her to this one.

  “You won’t hear any complaints from us, Miss,” said the prisoner, bolstered by growing murmurs of agreement. “I’d rather die fightin’ than rottin’ in a cell,” he smiled, revealing a flash of dazzling white teeth, stark against his grimy complexion.

  With a simple promise of nourishment and freedom, the extremists worked side by side with their oppressors. They found temporary peace in a common enemy as they loaded the slumbering guards into the empty, waiting cells.

  What was left of their meager rations and medical supplies was distributed among the prisoners, and armaments were given to anyone well enough and willing to fight.

  With Raeph at the head, they swept through the abandoned corridors as he proudly led them into battle, united only by a mutual hatred of injustice and a dire need for retribution.

  The guards vastly outnumbered the ragtag bunch, but the latter had something to fight for, fueled by a reckless sense of abandon that infused them with courage and rendered them invaluable on the field.

  The fearless vigilantes succeeded in serving as a sizeable distraction, clearing a pathway for Gustav and the others as they set out to find Marcel. Marie found it troubling how easily they’d met with success, but remained silent in her circumspect ruminations. She fixed Gustav’s stiff back with a gimlet eye as he briskly led them through the shadowy passageways with intense purpose.

  They melted from a hidden archway just outside of Marcel’s chambers, camouflaged by ridged slopes along the wall that blended into a protuberant crescent pattern. Marie’s stomach knotted at the familiar scent of copper that hung stagnant in the air as they charged past the threshold. She swallowed hard in a weak attempt to combat her growing nausea.

  The smell of ash and charred flesh tickled her nose, bringing Tajana’s face sharply to mind. The room had been completely refurbished with the remains of ripe victims, trampling on the others’ memories as if the lives of countless women had meant nothing. Marie had expected to see mounds of blackened rubble, but it was as if nothing had ever happened. That infuriated her to no end, fortifying her resolution as she braced herself at Gustav’s approach.

  Gustav flitted about the room with a dignified sinuosity surprising for one so stout. He slowly dragged his fingers over the nooks and crevices along the wall, looking for a telltale groove. He clicked his tongue in recognition as his fingers stumbled across a jutting sconce, marking a subtle distinction. He firmly wrapped his fingers around the base of the iron, pulling it down to reveal a small keyhole hidden in the mount.

  Laylia braced herself at the stirring of tumblers as the unmistakable scent of citrus slammed into her. All the color drained from her face as it wreaked havoc on her nerves. Marcel always loved the smell of citrus, and generously bathed himself in a nauseating perfume he’d gotten from Marketown as a child. Apparently, he still wore it to this day.

  She could taste the sickly sweet smell of oranges on her tongue as it ruthlessly permeated her senses. Phantom pains gnawed at her insides as she suddenly keeled forward. She buried her face in Bria’s mane to snuff out the pungent odor and stanch her tears. Her ceaseless trembling nearly brought Bria to ruin as she clumsily wove through the air, not wanting to go any further for both their sakes.

  The large room was enforced with thick walls of fortified steel and was surprisingly bare, containing no more than an overstuffed couch and half-empty cupboards in a perpetual state of disarray. Marcel remained crouched in a corner as Gustav shuffled into the room with the Umbra flying overhead. The constant flux of circulating air masked their arrival.

  “Gustav, is that you?” Marcel cried out.

  “Yes, Master,” Gustav replied begrudgingly.

  “Come quickly! Lock the door!”

  “Yes, Master.” All the anxiety melted from Marcel’s hunched form at the familiar click of the lock. He pulled himself up to his full height and turned his nose up at Gustav in an attempt to reestablish an air of dignity.

  “How did you know to find me here?”

  “The castle is in complete chaos. I thought it best to inquire about your whereabouts. This is always the first place I look when I cannot find you.”

  Gustav pulled a mysterious black object – no bigger than an acorn – from his pocket. He stepped forward, half-hidden in shadow, with the object concealed in the fleshy slope of his palm. Marcel marched over to Gustav, silently demanding an explanation for his suspect behavior with a wide, agitated gait. All the while, Gustav rolled the small object back and forth over his fingertips, surveying its density.

  As soon as Marcel was within arm’s-length, Gustav pushed the object in at both ends, elongating it by several inches as the two ends sprung apart. He deftly rapped Marcel behind the knees, pulling him down to the floor with a tumultuous cry of surprise. Flashing his small, pointed teeth in a menacing grin, Gustav struck him on the back of the skull, rendering the unsuspecting prince unconscious at once and leaving the others fumbling, aghast.

  Marie felt a jolt of nervous energy slither through her at the sudden impact of Alex’s paws on the hard floor. The four of them warily dismounted in turn. They now saw Gustav in an entirely new light that made them substantially more cautious of him.

  “Gustav,” Cerin cleared his throat. “I could’ve given you something that would’ve had the same desired effect, but with far less bloodshed.”


  “What if you had killed him?” Fallon blanched. His life held no value to either she or Cerin, but she was looking at it from a tactical perspective, and found the mousling’s actions foolishly impetuous.

  “I didn’t,” Gustav shrugged. “Tie him up.”

  “We may be working together for the time being, but let me be clear about something,” Fallon chuckled wryly. “I don’t take orders from anyone.”

  “Odd thing for a soldier to say, don’t you think?” Gustav countered coldly.

  “Can we please focus?” Laylia jumped in, her voice saturated with panic as she eyed Marcel’s slack form.

  “Yes,” Marie agreed upon seeing her sisters shake with anger. “We can fight later,” she sighed, pulling a coil of rope from her satchel and wrapping it about Marcel’s wrists at once.

  “Marie,” Cerin cringed, as if anticipating her reaction to his next words. “You’re not doing that in the most efficient manner.”

  “Oh? You do it then!” She emphatically rolled her eyes and angrily sidestepped to allow him access. He undid her laborious efforts with a single tug, and began tying an unnecessarily intricate knot.

  “He’ll wriggle out of that,” Fallon remarked dryly, looking on Cerin’s handiwork with obvious disapproval. “Just let me do it.” She pushed him aside and began weaving tight knots, ruthlessly abrading Marcel’s pale skin until it glowed red and purple.

  “I see you all get along as wonderfully as ever.” Laylia stiffened instantly at the sound of Marcel’s velvety voice. She resigned herself to a place among the shadows as she slithered away into the darkness. “Always nice to see you, Laylay.” The breathy compilation of syllables sent a shiver down her spine, forcing her to cower alongside Bria.

  “We don’t need him to speak, do we?” Marie looked to Gustav for confirmation, who briskly shook his head. She rifled through her pack, settling on one of Alex’s shirts, soiled with a weeks’ worth of perspiration and neglect. She smiled sweetly as she balled it up and stuffed it into Marcel’s mouth, pulling a somewhat hysterical laugh from Laylia. “You will not speak to my sister,” Marie dug her knuckles into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, forcing his attention as tears welled in his eyes. “You will not even look at her.” Marcel’s eyes immediately darted toward Laylia in blatant defiance, forcing Marie to wind her arm back and slap him across the face, hard enough to leave a gleaming runnel of crimson.

  “What happens now that all of us are here?” Laylia asked softly. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

  “Gather ‘round in a circle. Oldest to youngest,” Gustav instructed.

  They gathered in a circle around the Agrísta, seated Cerin, Fallon, Laylia, Marcel, and Marie. Marcel’s unfortunate placement between the two sisters symbolized his role in their relationship in more ways than one. He seemed to always come between them in one way or another.

  Marie hadn’t even come into direct contact with the young prince until now, and yet his cruel actions had affected her profoundly. Seeing him now, so helpless on the floor alongside her, gave her a grim satisfaction as she twisted her lips into a wry smile.

  “Let us begin,” Gustav said with a loud exhalation of preamble, and neatly placed himself behind Marcel. “The youngest must spill the first drop of blood.”

  “Me?” Marie swallowed audibly. “No pressure or anything,”

  she winced.

  “There’s no need to be nervous, child. Approach the Agrísta and hold out your hand. You will all have to do the same,” said Gustav, addressing the room.

  Marie approached the seemingly harmless silver box with an awkward clamber. Caught somewhere between walking and crouching, each flimsy half-step was weighted with indecision. She let out a deep breath of apprehension as she settled herself on the floor astride the Agrísta, desperately looking to Gustav for direction.

  “First and foremost, take a breath, child.” A reluctant mirth laced through the broken circle, fraught with warring decibels and breathy chuckles. Apparently, everyone had been holding their breath. “Now, place your hand atop the Agrísta.” Marie’s dread was only exacerbated by her obvious humiliation as she shakily inched her hand closer with great difficulty.

  She closed her eyes and brusquely turned away as she gingerly outstretched her fingers. She was comforted instantly by the feel of smooth steel, soothing against her worn fingertips.

  Her breath hitched as a sudden longing pulsed through her, feeling as if she’d been reunited with an old lover after decades of separation. She was filled with an irrefutable need to touch the Agrísta, to feed an insurmountable craving for an intimate connection.

  She slammed her hand down on the Agrísta, held tightly in place by the sheer power of an undeniable draw. For just a moment, it was as if they were one.

  A small prick in the soft pad of her thumb brought her fumbling back to her senses, flushed and breathless as the bond was suddenly broken. The feeling of yearning had left her just as quickly as it had come, leaving a small sapphire in place of her blood. Drained of all color and understanding, she staggered back to her seat, visibly flustered and worse for wear.

  “How strange,” Marie exclaimed softly, distancing herself from Marcel as she grudgingly took her seat beside him. “Who’s next?” She laughed nervously in a feeble attempt to diffuse the tension, hampered by silence.

  Gustav responded by mercilessly gripping Marcel’s earlobe and hauling his wriggling form across the floor. He threw his slump body onto the Agrísta with resounding abhorrence. The bunched cloth muffled Marcel’s forthcoming screams as the Agrísta forged a connection, leaving him writhing in agony as it siphoned blood from his twitching forefinger. The link abruptly broke away, spitting Marcel out as if he’d tasted bitter. A peridot appeared in place of his blood, somewhat begrudgingly.

  Once the circle was whole again, Laylia rose to her feet with the graceful indifference of a seasoned geisha. She glided toward the Agrísta with a sense of purpose and an air of nobility.

  Each step was perfectly weighted, as if she were walking on water. Her long, silvery blond hair fell around her shoulders in one elegant sweep as she dropped to her knees and gently placed her hand atop the Agrísta.

  The Agrísta pulled the blood from her middle finger as if softly suckling nectar, leaving in its place a round opal. She rose to her feet and hesitantly took her place beside Marcel. She did her best not to acknowledge his presence, with little success.

  “Are you okay?” Marie mouthed to Laylia, taking care to do so out of Marcel’s sightline. With a curt nod of answer, Laylia sharply turned away, leaving Marie to believe otherwise.

  Fallon let out a long sigh as she jumped to her feet, acting as if this whole ordeal was nothing more than an inconvenience to her. She all too casually strode up to the Agrísta, not even bothering to seat herself beside it as she lurched forward and slammed her hand down on top of it. It cried out with a metallic warble at the brunt gesture.

  The Agrísta seemed to have a mind to treat her with a similar disrespect. It siphoned more blood than necessary from her ring finger, and didn’t go about it gently. Determined to appear formidable, Fallon suppressed a squeal, but her pained expression of surprise gave her away. An emerald appeared shrouded in a corona of blood, prompting Fallon to proudly saunter back to her seat.

  “I have to admit, now that it’s my turn, I’m feeling a little bit of performance anxiety. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.” Cerin laughed to himself as he hesitantly rose to his feet.

  The others were engrossed in his movements. They watched him with a stern focus that felt nearly palpable and made his feet feel like lead. He drew in a deep breath, acting as if it were his last as he held it tight. He lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand atop the Agrísta.

  With one swift motion, the needle pierced the tip of his pinky. The Agrísta released his hand nearly as soon as it had touched the silver, erecting a small ruby in its place. Cerin took his place alongside Fallon, and
the five of them waited in companionable silence, watching the Agrísta with bated breath.

  “Why isn’t anything happening?” Fallon prompted impatiently.

  As if provoked by her words, the Agrísta ripped open with a deafening pitch. It emitted a pale gold light that enveloped the room, bleaching their surroundings with a blinding gilt.

  Marie grasped for Alex as the floor beneath them suddenly gave ‘way, but he slipped through her fingers like fine granules of sand. His baleful howl was devoured by her screams as she disappeared into the void.

  BONE DEEP

  Marie combed her fingers through the soft, dew-kissed grass that replaced the cold metal floor beneath her, feeling as though she’d fallen through time. She gingerly pushed herself up by her elbows and scanned herself for injuries. She seemed to be fairly unscathed, aside from the sharp pain radiating from her tailbone. She crudely gesticulated skyward and murmured a sardonic thanks, happy that her butt broke her fall, and not her face.

  Everyone else seemed to be in a similar state of shock and confusion as they took in their new surroundings. An explosion of white flowered trees mottled the lavender skyline in sharp contrast to their ebony bark, limned with the last vestiges of sunlight as it set fire to the horizon and gave life to the foliage.

  Healthy tufts of turquoise grass lined a narrow walkway; the same walkway that so graciously broke their fall and stripped them of their waning enthusiasm. The pale stones twisted along the vibrant, fluffy swards, leading up to a small silver building that glittered in the fading sun, adorned with uniquely sculpted topiaries.

  “Are you alright?” Alex gathered Marie in his arms before she had the chance to answer.